Just took 90 min out of my day to take David to the doctor. It is well known that Admin has always been a preferred pastime of mine (it’s listed as a hobby on my Facebook profile). But car issues in particular have got to rank up there among my top three favourite types.
1. Red Tape / Relocation Admin (sorting out visas / cancelling Barclays accounts via Royal Mail because that is how it’s been done in England since Jack the Ripper)
2. Mate Admin (not pitching up where one should have / not emailing / not calling / not answering calls)
3. Car admin (all types: buying / services / maintenance / changing tyres / filling up).
Putting it mildly, today’s instance of Admin was pretty fantastic as far as admin goes. It ticked all the usual irritancy boxes, and more. I’ll start from the beginning:
Apparently whilst I was frolicking in Oman this weekend - snorkeling, day tripping in a wooden dhow alongside dolphins, making friends with a local tour guide who introduced himself as Malala, but changed it to Mandela when it clicked that we were Saffas (biscuit!) – David’s left-hand passenger window simply slid down of its own accord.
As luck would have it, there was a well-orchestrated mini sand-storm in Dubai. There David sat in our driveway, ingesting gust after gust of sandy wind, while his mother was sunning herself at a poolside resort 3 hours’ drive away.
Upon arriving back home in time for the Sharks game, I tried to patch things up with the little guy. Literally. “I’m sorry I neglected you” [wrestling with a rubbish bin liner and a piece of cardboard to act as a sand block, sweating, vloeking, hating life]. I’m not really good at this kind of maintenance stuff. Far better at breaking things.
Literally seconds after I had ‘fixed’ the window, locked the car (why? – SA habit), the opposite passenger window squeeled. Slid down. Could not be closed by any amount of button-pressing or tantrum-throwing.
Kiff, so, taxi it to and from work yesterday for a small fortune, to avoid leaving car with gaping holes exposed to the sandpit that is the staff car park. Book an appointment at dealership at fittingly inconvenient time – noon - for today.
While David spent the morning parked in the baking desert terrain parking lot, I prayed to Margaret Thatcher that one it wouldn’t occur to any of the worm-riddled street cats inhabiting the place to climb in between the plastic and the cardboard. I can’t really imagine much that would scare the bejesus out of me as effectively as the hiss of a slum-cat as I was accelerating out of there.
Anyway, VW ‘service assistant’ (whatever that is) Mr Robby (in Dubai you automatically get a Mrs or a Mr in front of your first name), flipping through the Warrantee I thrust at him, is not so “100% sure” whether the required operation will be covered because my service history is looking a little patchy.
Funny, considering I bought the car in Feb 2007. Even though I love David, cars aren’t my thing, and I’ll be blown if I picked up that the 15,000 km service wasn’t stamped into his book.
Now here I am waiting for the damage report like some crazed bus lady.
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1 comment:
I hope you and Mr David can patch things up. Although, a friend once told me that getting admin in the first three months of a relationship is a sign to cut your losses and run... I'm pretty sure he wasn't referring to his car though.
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